Universal Languages
by Lupa Eira
Summary: "Ah..." he flailed, then blurted, "It's just...if you need to talk about something..." he blushed even more furiously, finishing the sentence in his head-I know something about sadness, he thought. See inside for summary.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! Glad to have you on board! This is my oneshot of how the canon romance of Astoria Greengrass and Draco Malfoy may have begun. If I get enough reviews and encouragement, I'll probably continue it, but if not, it'll stay a oneshot, at least while I'm working on another fanfic. Enjoy, rate, and review!**

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Draco walked down the familiar halls of Hogwarts alone, keeping his eyes mostly trained downwards. His posture was somewhat hunched over too. Unfortunately, this didn't prevent him from hearing everyone quiet down as he approached—laughter was hushed, and some people started whispering. Many of the Gryffindors in particular stared at him with open hostility. He felt their eyes on him constantly. In class their attention was diverted, but otherwise their eyes were constantly on him. Coming to school for months had only waned the hostility of a few.

It was torturous.

Hogwarts had been _his_ home, _his_ castle as much as it was theirs. Draco had left it during what would have been his seventh year, and like many from his class had returned in order to complete the year he had missed. The Hogwarts staff had welcomed everyone back with open arms…except Draco.

He felt like the very walls were ostracizing him.

They had rebuilt much of the castle after the Battle of Hogwarts, and much of it was named after the late headmaster Dumbledore. The irony of the situation whenever he walked through Dumbledore Hall or played on the Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Quidditch Pitch was not lost on him, because the other students never let him forget. Walking into the Great Hall for dinner, he halfheartedly grabbed two rolls of bread, then left the Hall. His appetite had gone down and no one ever wanted to sit with him anyway, so most of the time he took something simple and then left, wandering the halls at a time when he knew most of the castle wouldn't be present. He mechanically chewed the two rolls of bread as he walked. They tasted like cardboard, despite that he knew they were flavored with cheeses and made in the finest style. Still, he continued walking, wondering vaguely why he bothered to eat at all.

Generally, he avoided the Room of Requirement at all costs. Draco had no idea if it still worked because of the fire, but he had no desire whatsoever to find out.

Today Draco decided to go to the library. It was quiet there, even if there were always some students there during dinner. Just him and his thoughts. Well, he was used to that. Automatically walking towards a hidden corner, Draco set down his bag and sighed, putting his face in his hands.

Slowly he lifted his head. He heard something…in the library it was very much out of place. A girl, crying. But who would be crying in the library? He got up and looked from side to side, curious. Peering around the corner, it appeared no one else heard the muffled sniffling. Was he going mad? Turning around and walking along some aisles to a little-used branch of the library—the History of Magic section—he discovered the source of the noise.

A sixth-year Ravenclaw girl was sitting in a chair, staring out the window with tears running down her face almost soundlessly. The only things betraying her were her very shallow breathes, which explained why no one but Draco had heard her, because only he had been close enough.

Draco instantly felt that he shouldn't be there. He knew what it was like to need to cry in private, and this girl clearly wanted to be alone. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he started stepping backwards when the girl suddenly moved and saw him. She gasped and started, clearly mortified.

"I-I'm sorry," Draco stuttered, equally embarrassed for her. She bore a resemblance to Daphne Greengrass, he saw, who was a Slytherin in his year. She had chosen not to return to Hogwarts that year like many of her class, but had instead gone to Scotland to begin her career. This must be her younger sister, Draco realized, then cursed himself for noticing such stupid details. As he was thinking, the girl had wiped the tears from her face with her robe sleeve.

"Don't be, it's my fault," she muttered. "Standing here like an idiot looking outside and crying." She looked Draco resolutely in the eye and said resignedly, "Don't mind me, I'm fine. I'm just tired." With that, she hoisted her bag over her shoulder and started to leave, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. Something welled up inside Draco—not pity, not compassion. It wasn't something he could identify, but it made him reach out his arm to stop her. He blushed when he realized he couldn't give a valid reason for grabbing her arm. She stared at him with her big brown eyes, a question behind her gaze which was screaming out her hurt.

"Ah…" he flailed, then blurted, "It's just…if you need to talk about something…" he blushed even more furiously, finishing the sentence in his head—_I know something about sadness._

"Er…" the girl said, clearly just as stumped for a response as he had been. Her eyes flicked down to his hand on her arm, and Draco released it. _Well, you've managed to create an awkward situation that will no doubt be common gossip by tomorrow, _Draco chastised himself. _Any other ways to mess up your own life while you're at it?_

"Well…" the girl said, startling Draco out of his thoughts. "It's just…sometimes I get this feeling of numbness, right out of the blue. Even if there's nothing wrong. There's just this overwhelming sadness." She ducked her head, not meeting Draco's eyes. "I suppose that doesn't make any sense to you."

"No!" Draco exclaimed, making the girl flinch. Controlling his voice, he amended, "I mean…it's not strange at all." His heart reached out to her tentatively. He, Draco, needed reasons for his sadness, but apparently this girl didn't, and it was horrible. He realized he wasn't as alone as he'd previously thought.

"I-I should go," the girl stammered, taking a step back and turning around.

"I'm Draco, by the way," he said suddenly. "Draco…Malfoy," he muttered the last part with something like shame. There was a flicker of recognition in the girl's face as she stopped and glanced behind her, and also something peculiar—perhaps the faintest impression of a smile? It couldn't be!

"I'm Astoria," she said. "Astoria Greengrass." Then her dark brown ponytail swung back around and she was gone.

Something important had just happened, Draco knew. Some kind of turning point. The question was, what was supposed to change?

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**I do have ideas for continuing this, but I really would like to know if people are interested. Please review and follow!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello all! I've decided to continue it anyway, even though it's been a couple of months. I'd like to take this time to shout out to aleera, my first reviewer and follower and the only person I'm certain is reading this story, and the guest who wrote the second review. Hopefully more people will follow your lead, aleera!**

**Enjoy, rate, and review!**

**Note: I had to up the rating for language. Oh well. **

Chapter Two

_Coward. _

_ Killer._

_ Death Eater._

The words went around and around Draco's head. It didn't matter if he actually heard them from students or not. He tortured himself with them, almost intentionally. He couldn't forget who he was. He couldn't forget what he'd done. For one thing, the Golden Trio avoided him at all costs, though that was definitely at least partially due to the fact that the teachers made sure that they either didn't have class together or were always at opposite sides of the room. They (the Trio, that is) basked in the glow of admiration from their fellow students and teachers.

He, Draco, was appropriately left out, seeing as he had stood by and watched as his aunt Bellatrix had tortured Hermione Granger. If he got within ten feet of the girl, the Weasel's eyes started burning like he was going to kill Draco just by looking at him.

He sat on the ground, barely registering the cold temperature. It was Saturday morning, and he had no classes. At least the winter holidays would begin in a week, and then he would be left alone to his thoughts in the nearly empty Manor instead of Hogwarts. Sighing, Draco opened a letter from his mother, which had come by owl that morning.

_Dear Draco,_

_ I visited your father today in Azkaban. He doesn't seem to be eating very much, or perhaps they don't feed him all that well there. At any rate, he's not doing very well. I'm very worried about him. I think he thought that even in Azkaban, there would be better accommodations for those who could pay, but no such luck. It's ridiculous._

_ As for you, my darling son, I'm glad you've settled back again at Hogwarts so well—_

(Draco hadn't told his mother about his school troubles. She had enough problems as it was without constantly worrying about him.)

—_At least I know they feed you well there. I can't wait to see you in a week. It's been rather lonely here all by myself at the Manor. I've been visiting out a lot—you know, to the other women whose husbands are in Azkaban. I've been talking a lot particularly with Mrs. Greengrass; I believe her daughter Daphne is one of your classmates in Slytherin. She also has another daughter (Astoria) in Ravenclaw, but you probably don't know her. Her husband isn't in Azkaban, but her son is—he wasn't a Death Eater, but he did provide a lot of inside Ministry information to them. She's home alone most of the time as well since all of her children are away and her husband never gets home much because of business. Anyways, enjoy your last week at Hogwarts before the holidays. I love you._

_See you soon, _

_Mother_

A sort of shock went through Draco's system when he read the name "Astoria". That was the second time her name had cropped up within the same amount of days. He couldn't help but feel it was somehow sort of fateful. Taking out a sheet of parchment, a quill, and a folder to lean on, he began to write a reply.

_Mother,_

_ I'm sorry to hear of Father's struggles, though I can't honestly say that I expected anything different. In this newfound world of tolerance (which will likely only last a few years before corruption again takes over) I'm afraid that Father probably won't be able to get around quite like he used to, but that's what happens in these situations, I suppose. I'm glad you're getting out and talking to people. I'll be happy to be home for Christmas._

_ You mentioned in your letter that you've been alone a lot, and that you've been getting together with your friends a lot. Perhaps we should all spend Christmas together? That way no one has to face an empty house._

_Draco_

A year or two ago, Draco thought as he finished the letter, he would never have been so thoughtful or have cared very much about his mother's social life. He didn't particularly want to spend Christmas with a bunch of weeping women, but he knew the suggestion would mean a lot to his mother. Besides, he was becoming more and more curious about the mysterious Astoria, and at a gathering such as this she was bound to attend if only for her mother's sake. Reluctantly, Draco stood up and started walking to the Owlery, using the least frequented routes he could think of.

When Draco arrived, he was startled to see several Gryffindor sixth-years inside. He had never seen them, but they clearly knew him by sight, stared daggers at him when he entered.

"Get out of here, _Death Eater_," one of them growled.

"Last time I checked, anyone is allowed to use the Owelry," Draco said edgily, with a bit of his old attitude. One of the Gryffindors walked up to him, shaking in fury.

"Your _friends_ killed my sister, you bastard," he hissed.

Well, there wasn't really anything Draco could say to that. And he knew better than to try to defend himself against them—they would immediately cry foul and claim that he had attacked them, simply because he was a former Death Eater. He prepared for the inevitable curses and hexes that would hit him, fingering his wand.

Just then another student walked into the Owelry. It was none other than the infamous Neville Longbottom, the klutz-turned-revolutionary. Draco was always in awe of the irony of the situation.

"Something going on here?" he asked, voice deeper than Draco remembered it being. The sixth years backed off, looking kind of afraid. "This doesn't seem like a fair situation," Neville continued. "Three against one is a pretty cowardly way to fight, if you ask me. Leave Malfoy alone." The sixth years glowered at the older boy, then left the Owlery.

"Thanks," Draco muttered, unbelieving he was in debt to Longbottom, of all people.

"You're no better than them," Neville said sharply. "I just don't want them to learn cowardice. I know it's in them to be better or they wouldn't be in Gryffindor." The implication that Slytherins somehow wouldn't be able to overcome cowardice was not lost on Draco. He said nothing, tying his letter to the leg of his family owl and then going on his way.

Draco sighed. It was going to be a long week before he could finally go home and find some peace. At least there the only things that tortured him were ghosts.

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***dramatic music plays***

**Will this story have more reviewers? Will more people read it and decide to put it in their story alerts? YOU DECIDE.**

**Note: The next chapter and probably the one after that will be Astoria-centric.**


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